The Fifth Healer

34.

I step backward through the door to catch my balance, but there's a ramp from the threshold into the room, so I lose my balance and fall backward. Ainsley, who was pushing against me, also tumbles forward once I'm falling. I throw an arm back to break my fall and crumple onto the hard ground, feet in the doorway, propping the door open, the rest of my body inside the little one-room building. Ainsley lands right on top of me, and I instantly forget heart- the sting of slamming into the stone floor. Her curves push against me, soft and full, and her legs are splayed on either side of my bio leg. My right hand is on her hip, at the waistband of her leggings.

With her body thrust against mine, I can feel the curves normally obscured by her heavy sweater, my mind scanning and then creating an impression of what's underneath that thick outer layer of cotton. As if a switch was flipped, every nerve ending in my body lights up. My breathing is constricted, not by the force of her squeezing me against the floor but by my own internal tension, tension which shoots up my chest until I feel it in my cheekbones.

What were we arguing about barely more than a second ago?

Being much shorter than me, her head landed on my chest. She lifts it, locking eyes with me. But she stays in place otherwise, instead of going up into a push-up position to put space between our bodies. Is that on purpose? Does she like being entangled with me like this?

I swallow, trying to read in her eyes a signal about what to do next.

I lift my hand slowly toward her face. It's shaking. I exhale, trying to steady the hand, but my breath is even shakier as I anticipate my hand brushing her cheek...then...who knows? Pulling her face toward mine? Her, crawling up my body, hips sliding forward over mine, everything underneath that sweater rubbing softly till her lips climb to meet mine-

"Oh my god, I almost forgot," says Ainsley, breaking eye contact. "Niles and Wally."

"What about them?"

She pushes up to a sitting position, still perched on my leg. "We can't just leave them back at the Lincoln Memorial."

"Why not? I told them to come."

"But they didn't know how much you'd already figured out."

"I really tried," I say. "Wally was basically hostile."

"If you'd told them about the Washington Monument being-"

"I think his exact words were moronic asses."

"What about Niles? He deserves a chance."

Is it my responsibility to carry these people over the finish line? If they can't handle this stage alone, maybe the next one will be even more dangerous for them. Going home now could save their lives. Plus, there's that warning from my parents.

Do not be distracted. Trust no one.

I'm not for Niles and Wally. Who I just met. Sure, I have more memories with them than with my parents, but my objective here is to carry out my parents' plans. To make them proud. To get justice for their murder.

Not to mention, my leg is killing me, and walking another two miles to the Lincoln Memorial and back sounds like absolute hell.

I wish there were a way to make Ainsley see all this. My body is telling me not to let her go, or at least to go with her. But my head says as much as I want to stretch out this moment of physical contact, a relationship or even a hookup is a distraction I can't afford right now.

I shake my head. "They made their choice, Ainsley. Maybe they'll still find this place after they see Dr. Khan doesn't come for them at 1:15."

She stands and steps away from me. "You know they'll never find it, Nikolai."

"It wouldn't be much of a test if everyone passed."

She bends her head forward, looking down. "Fine, go win your race. I'll get them myself."

"Wait, Ainsley! That's not what I meant!"

But she's already marching away, leaving me alone in the Bullfinch House.

She turns away and starts walking back toward the Lincoln Memorial. I feel a pang of something inside, like maybe I should be going with her. Is it selfish of me to proceed alone? My parents' instructions were clear. Mission first. Can an action be selfless even if the people you're doing it for are dead? I do have to admire Ainsley's determination to help Niles and Wally, even though it has cost me her presence-and depending on when Dr. Khan arrives, it may cost Ainsley the chance to advance. That's real selflessness.

It's currently 12:42. I look around for the first time. In stark contrast to the aged stone walls of the exterior, the inside of the space is polished and ornate. The floor is made of marble tiles, a chessboard of black and white squares. The walls are covered in a deep red velvet. Painted portraits of early US Presidents hang in wide gilt frames.

"Hello?" I say, even though there's no one here.

I'm still sitting on the ground with my legs propping open the door. The sidewalk outside is bustling with pedestrians, a mix of suits and tourists. I don't want to draw attention to this odd little building with its unexpectedly well-appointed interior. So I hurry inside and let the door swing closed. It shuts with a BANG loud enough that I feel it in my chest.

I had expected to find Dr. Khan waiting inside or something. Disconcerting to find it empty. I lean against the wall and place my chin in my hands. What if I was wrong? What if 1:15 was just the meeting time after all, at the obvious place, the Lincoln Memorial? That's where she'd said to go, kind of. And there was a feather there, as promised. She said it would be won or lost in the last few steps, which could mean the walk to here, the Bullfinch house, but it could also be the last couple steps of getting up Abraham Lincoln and retrieving the feather, which were surely the trickiest of the entire race, and would literally determine who got the feather.

No, this has to be the spot. There's no other explanation for discovering a chronolocked door at exactly 26.2 miles from the start, in the spot where the shadow will point at 1:15, leading to a weird empty room that looks like it was decorated by George Washington's interior designer. I am in the right spot. I will stay put.

At 1:15 PM, when the tip of the Washington Monument's shadow is just brushing against the Bullfinch House outside, I feel a vibration in my feet and hear what sounds like an earthquake. The stone blocks of the floor begin to separate underneath me, forcing me to scoot to one side so I don't topple in.